Thoughts from the back of a notebook, from beneath the Game of Thrones castle, from beneath a statue in Croatia, from an airport in the UK, from a lake in Slovenia.
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Thoughts from a notebook, an ongoing series without rhyme, without reason, written in the back of notebooks, on bar napkins, in the echoing loneliness of a broken heart.
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A new story time. A dark, urban fantasy.
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I stay up late and watch movies, just to feel something. My guilty pleasures are broken characters, lost loves, and small hopes, rolled into an hour and a half of an emotional roller coaster
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I breathe in the velvet smooth of the dark until it consumes me, fills me up in endless shades of cool.
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I stood beneath a sky so dark it broke against my bones in waves of midnight flowers. The air pressed against my skin as a low rumble of thunder rolled across the wasteland of my heart. Inside of the storm was the lifeless beating of a broken heart.
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In the darkness I trail my hand along soft walls, brushed smooth with striking colors, muted by twilight. Each step brings me closer to you, to the memories left cold and aching in my head. I wander into the darkness, letting the cool shadow press against my tired flesh.
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I sat in the grass, feeling the sun touch my skin with warm fingers. It reminded me of you.
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My skin tastes like salt. I can still feel the ocean kissing me as I drift beneath it’s surface. It breathes in my veins, rocks my heart with the swell of the waves. I stare into your eyes and think of home, of those last few seconds of air pounding angrily at my chest.
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We all live in a tangled world, with tangled lives and tangles memories, tangled up in worries thick with the tangles of useless things. These knots crush against my chest with a fervor matched by malevolent movie villains.
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Epic sunrise shots and Instagram stories never start from the summit. They start with waking up, they start with sweat and burning muscles, they start with late nights and cold hangs on the side of mountains, they start with passion and high expectations...
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I wait for broken sunsets and broken smiles to take me home. I wait for colors to fight each other on the darkened horizon. I wait for the cool of evening when the world is bathed in shadow. I wait for a moment alone.
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The sky warred against the radiation in the air. They fought each other in clashing shapes and violent colors, bleeding out over the haze of smog and heat that had begun to settle over the ground.
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I woke up with the sun, when the air was still cold enough to send shivers up my spine.
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We are infatuated with white noise, we let it fill our lives with static so we don't have to face the silence.
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Worry pulls at my gut, mixing my emotions with the slow, grinding wheels of change. It’s exhausting, waking up in the mornings, the thoughts in my head stoking the coals of anxiety that murmur happily in my chest.
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Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather...
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Some moments, when snow is filtering down from the sky, and the cold is bitter beyond brick walls, you meet up with friends for photo shoots in Troy coffee shops.
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I’ve always been enamored by lost places. I step into them and drift away, watching golden light stream through treetops, quiet and listening to the sounds of the world.
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Swinging in my hammock beneath patches of stars, a cool breeze rushes in from the sea, rolling in a haze of patchy cloud over my head. The stars flit in and out of existence through the swaying palms, unhappy that I won’t come up to play.
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